


Obloquy

by sparklyfaerie



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyfaerie/pseuds/sparklyfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He said he knew where to find their daughter. He never said how old she would be when he found her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obloquy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or anything associated with it. All rights to Doctor Who and affiliated products belong to the BBC and the other proper entities.

He said he knew where to find their daughter.

He never said how old she would be when he found her.

He lands silently, the TARDIS cloaked to avoid detection from the guards. Even as he opens the door, he can hear the TARDIS dematerialising, can see it over River's shoulder as a younger version of himself disappears. Off to have an adventure. With pirates. He'd quite liked those pirates. They'd been happy to help when he'd asked them to go to Demon's Run with him.

He's leaning in the door of the invisible TARDIS, arms and ankles crossed, just watching her for a few moments. She just stares at the place the other TARDIS had dematerialised moments ago. He doesn't speak.

He remembers the look on her face.

She takes a deep breath—he can see her shoulders heave—and turns around, likely to go to her cot. He's startled her—she gives a little jump, gasping.

He doesn't wait for her to speak. He's been thinking, floating around in the Vortex for hours, the excitement of learning her identity waning. He feels wretched as he remembers America. "I've just come from Demon's Run." He tells her. "I worked it out—you were the little girl in Florida. The one in the spacesuit." It's not a question.

She doesn't answer.

"I'm sorry," he looks at the floor, "about what just happened." He makes a vague gesture towards the spot where the other TARDIS stood a few moments ago. But then, they both know that he's also talking about what happened at Demon's Run. For failing to save her as an infant.

"It wasn't your fault." She breathes, still shocked to see him.

"But it  _is_." He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He finally looks her in the eye. "I never find you. I mean, young you. Melody."

"Sp—"

"It wasn't a question." He interrupts her murmur of ' _spoilers_ '. "I  _know_  I don't. If I did, you wouldn't have been in Florida at all. You wouldn't be living out of order with your parents." He laughs humourlessly. "Your  _parents_." He spits the word like it's poison—not that the idea of River being a Pond is a bad thought. Just, what it  _means_ , for her, for all of them, sticks in his throat and chokes him. "You wouldn't be in this place. It's my fault." She opens her mouth to contradict him—he knows—but he speaks again. "You were right, you know."

"About what?"

"What you said back there. At Demon's Run. About what I've become."

She tenses. "I haven't done Demon's Run yet." She purses her lips. "I remember Rory coming to ask me for help. I had to say no. That was years ago."

He casts an eye over her. "Go now."

"I'm sorry," she blinks, "what?"

"Go now." He nods at the vortex manipulator on her wrist. "I'm positive you came from tonight. That's why I came here—landed a bit earlier than I expected, though. But you looked exactly the same. Same clothes. Still had the torch on your belt."

"Doctor—"

"I'll wait here." He reassures her, stepping forward and lifting her wrist, tapping in coordinates for her. He's not been this close to her since… well, since he was the him that just left her. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stand right here and wait." He promises, stepping back. "There's a Gamma prayer leaf with your name on it. Melody Pond. Song River. It'll be in the cot."

She blinks, looking from the manipulator to his face. "But what do I say?"

His mouth twists into a wry smirk, not reaching his eyes. "The truth."

* * *

She reappears in a flash of electricity and smoke just seconds after she disappears, her face white and eyes red. "I hate you." She murmurs, no heat in her voice.

"I hate me too."

"Amy cried for hours." She told him, sinking down onto her cot. "And Rory—he tried so hard to be strong. And I couldn't tell them." She wiped at her eyes, refusing to let the tears spill. "They kept asking, and I—I couldn't tell them."

"I'm sorry for making you do that." He sits down next to her, all awkward limbs. "I just—I was just happy, and then—then I realised exactly what it  _meant_ , and…" he sighed. "I'll have to tell Amy and Rory that I can never hand their baby back to them. They'll never forgive me."

River sniffs, resting her head on his shoulder—tentatively, as if she expects him to toss her off. He wraps an arm around her waist and she shifts a little closer to him, leaning into him fully. He traces circles—both of her names, in Gallifreyan—on the material of her dress at her hip. Her hair is soft under his cheek. "You're wrong, you know." She murmurs softly.

"About what?"

"Amy and Rory. They don't blame you. I explained things—as much as I could, anyway. They know it's not your fault." She pauses. "They're upset now. Give them time. Once they understand everything—when they learn exactly what happened—just give them time."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the crashing and rolling of thunder and the patter of the rain outside. He turns his head and presses a kiss into her hair—the first time he's shown her any kind of affection since she kissed him after America—or since a few minutes ago, depending on who you ask. Of course, he's seen her since, while Amy and Rory were sleeping, but she was older. Post Pandorica, but pre-Byzantium. And, well, if he'd lied about his timeline to ease any awkwardness that the kiss would have caused her, then… well, he was always awkward around her. There was no reason for both of them to be.

She is a miracle. Oh, he's well aware that she's far from perfect. He knows that she's probably done things that he would condemn anyone else for. He remembers Amy's words at the monastery.  _"You can die. I might have seen that happen."_  He knows River is in prison for murder. He's not a fool. He can't say exactly what happened in Utah, but he can make a few educated guesses, all of which end up with River landed in prison and the stricken looks on Amy and Rory's faces that he sees sometimes, when they think he's not watching.

Knowing what he knows now, he doesn't blame her. Not one little bit. Whatever it was that drove her to kill him that afternoon (and he has a few guesses as to that as well), he knows he forgives her for it.

She'd handled that day quite well, he remembers. She'd kept her parents from spilling the secret, and stood, stony-faced, against his interrogation. Refusing to crack. So strong. So glorious.

He knows he doesn't deserve her.

"You're right. You didn't find me." She finally breaks the silence, interrupting his train of thought. "Actually, I seem to recall that I was the one to find  _you_. But then—spoilers." She gives an awkward little chuckle. "But it's soon. For you."

He smiles, lips still pressed into her hair. "Looking forward to it."


End file.
